


Cocktail

by rolypoly_panda



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo - Round One? Of Maybe? Two? Or More? [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Allergies, Anaphylaxis, Anxiety, Gen, Good Parent Grace Hargreeves, Hurt Number Five | The Boy, Hurt/Comfort, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Light Angst, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, Number Five | The Boy Whump, Protective Diego Hargreeves, Protective Klaus Hargreeves, and he kinda gets it! my usual!, or maybe closer to 4, so i wrote this quite literally at 3am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27530875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rolypoly_panda/pseuds/rolypoly_panda
Summary: Diego remembers everything about their childhood, whether it be their favorite colors as kids, or who was doing what during which day. He can recall it all, and so, nothing slips past him. But Klaus on the other hand?Well, not so much.So, it's only natural that, after seventeen years, Klaus forgets just howdeathly allergicFive is to tree nuts. But hey, those cookies were to-die-for kind-of good...BAD THINGS HAPPEN BINGO PROMPT: Allergic Reaction
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy & Diego Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Klaus Hargreeves
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo - Round One? Of Maybe? Two? Or More? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012239
Comments: 27
Kudos: 384





	Cocktail

**Author's Note:**

> All copyright content doesn't belong to me. All characters belong to Gerard Way and Netflix.

Diego could recall most all things from their childhood with ease. The perks of having an abusive billionaire as his father made it so every bruising, every beating, every grueling training session had been burned into the base of his skull. Sometimes, he had dreamt about those days, those moments, and a twisted part of him had never wanted to let them go. After all, when he was younger, to forget what he had been taught would only result in more punishment. So Diego had always made a case to remember. The skill stuck, and had come in handy more often than not.

But because of it, he could call upon obscure memories that meant nothing. He could remember Allison's favorite dog in the neighborhood had been named Squid, and he had passed away when they were sixteen. He could recall Luther's most hated food as a child was cantaloupe, though not for the texture nor the taste but, rather, the smell. He could see Klaus' fingers getting caught in a makeshift-snare, could hear Vanya's music sifting through the thin walls and floors, could feel his shoe sliding on blood Ben had trailed in yet again, all as if they had only happened yesterday. They were bright, beautifully vivid moments, snapshots in time that told him, "see, it wasn't all bad" even though it oftentimes had felt as if Hargreeves were hell incarnate.

And of all the things, Diego  _ also _ remembered something he had no need to think of for years. Seventeen years, to be exact.

Five was allergic to  _ tree _ nuts.

Walnuts, pine nuts, almonds, cashews, and pecans; they would all snap his airways shut, would strangle him in a matter of seconds. Because of his "disappointing, incurable ailment", their father had left EpiPens scattered in various places, low enough for children to reach, obvious enough for everyone to see. One had been left on a bookshelf, and another on the fireplace mantle. Most had been tossed out over the years as Five showed no signs of blinking back into their lives, but a few had been forgotten in their places. There were two in the foyer, one in the kitchen, and one in the back training rooms, still. They all stood vigil for a boy that would never return.

That is, until he did.

And that was, until he inevitably ate a tree nut by accident.

Klaus must have forgotten that little known fact about Five. After all, it seemed weird to think that their time-traveling, former-assassin, fifty-eight year old thirteen-year-old brother could  _ quite literally  _ be killed over something the size of a fingernail. The old man seemed impenetrable, sure, but if an almond  _ looked _ at Five funny, Diego was sure he would drop. Then again, Diego remembered everything, so _of_ _ course _ Klaus would forget. That was the only explanation because, otherwise, Klaus was trying to kill Five, and that just wasn't the truth. While Vanya had cried over squashed ants, Klaus had sobbed over burned toast and the Discovery Channel.

So spacy, ditzy, always-living-in-the-moment Klaus must have forgot...

Klaus sat the cookies down in the center of the table, smiling wide and practically bouncing at his achievement. Diego popped an eyebrow at him. He turned to the platter.

They were golden brown and relatively round, dusted with powdered sugar that made them look like snowy fields rather than basic cookies. While they seemed palatable from afar, Diego had been subjected to many-a-cooking extravaganza in the past: blood pudding that had tasted like straight copper, or an entire block of salmon that had, somehow, been completely undercooked despite being in the oven for an hour. Klaus had never been known for his cooking, but perhaps he was better at baking?

Diego plucked a cookie off the plate. He flipped it in-between his fingers. "What is it?"

"A cookie!" Klaus' eyes were glittering. "Tell me how it tastes?"

Diego tentatively ran his tongue over his teeth. He glanced between the snack, then Klaus, then the snack, then Klaus again, before blurting, "Yeah, but what's  _ in _ it?"

Near Diego, reading the newspaper with a mug of coffee, Five looked a picture of very-bland-grandpa, with an ankle folded over his knee, eyes skittering over the print. After a sip from his drink, he mumbled, "Quit playing with your food, Number Two."

"Don't tell me what to do." Diego spat.

Five's eyes snapped up to him. "My apologies. I forgot that those with low IQs tend to enact childish behaviors. Continue." He turned back to his paper.

"Shut up." Diego said. He ripped his cookie in half and popped one side into his mouth.

It was warm, buttery, and tasted nearly exactly how Grace had cooked them from when they were kids. The dough had been a bit overdone, sure, and there were new spices added from what Diego could remember, but they tasted good. It reminded Diego of all the times they had just finished an exhausting session with Hargreeves, overworking themselves and their powers, bringing themselves to the brink of exhaustion. Grace would glide in, giving them each a cookie, then one more when their father's back had been turned. Diego had lived for those moments.

Slowly, Diego pulled away from the second half to look up at Klaus. "Alright. Damn. It's not too bad, man. Not too bad. You seal mom's recipe or something?"

"She  _ gave _ it to me. Like, years ago. I tweaked it here and there, though." Klaus explained, untying and lifting the apron up over his head. "And honestly I've always made weed cookies out of it  _ but-- _ " He held up a finger. "Since I'm newly sober, I wanted to celebrate!"

Diego held the second half of the cookie up to him. "So no weed?"

"None! Hopefully they're not too bad without it." Klaus planted his hands on his hips. He sighed deeply, reminiscing on something with a faraway look, then grabbed a cookie for himself. After a bite, he said, "You know, I'm pretty proud, to be honest. I didn't think they'd taste this good without the weed." Then, with half-masticated cookie rolling in his mouth, Klaus said, "Hey, Five! Have a sobriety cookie!"

Five didn't move his paper. "No thanks."

Klaus whined, "Why not?"

"Not into sweets." Five sighed.

"Liar." Diego hissed. "You lived for that shit when we were kids. And you're always eating peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches."

A beat of silence passed. Five's newspaper rattled in his hands as he turned the page.

Klaus and Diego glanced at one another.

Another moment followed. Then, Five reached forward, picking a cookie up off the plate. He didn't look to them as he cracked off a side with his teeth and chewed. Five blinked a few times, clearing his throat. He looked up to Klaus, slowing his chewing.

"See! Not bad, right?" Klaus leaned in, his hands planted on the table.

"It's...fine..." Five looked back to the newspaper. The cookie stayed mostly-untouched, pinched between his fingers.

Klaus pulled back. "Well, I label that a success!"

Diego swallowed the second half of his cookie and reached for another one.

Five's cookie hit the floor.

Diego snapped to attention.  He leapt to his feet.

Five stumbled out of his chair, the newspaper flopping to the floor, too. He was sluggish, was uncoordinated as he stared up at Diego with wide eyes. He looked as if he had been hit in the chest, winded and wheezing. His hand flew to his throat--

"Ah shit!  _ Shit! _ " Diego rushed around the corner of the table, jumping behind Five and guiding him to the floor before his legs gave out. Five clawed at his throat, his neck, desperate, his fingers digging into whatever they could find whether it be Diego's skin or his own. Diego pried his hands away, undoing his tie and loosening the first button on his shirt to try and alleviate some of the panic. But they both knew it was useless. His fingernails raked lines down Diego's arms.

"Get a Pen!" Diego ordered Klaus.

Klaus stuttered in his step.

Five  opened his mouth. He looked as if he were going to vomit. Spit dribbled over his lips as he leaned forward, trying to breathe.

Bracketing an arm across Five's chest, Diego pulled him close and shouted to Klaus, "The _EpiPens,_ Klaus! Get a goddamn EpiPen!"

Klaus was trembling hard before them. " _Where--?_ "

"In the cabinet over there! Bottom shelf, next to the sauce pans!" Diego nudged his chin in the direction. 

Klaus scrambled across the kitchen, throwing open the correct cabinet door and flinging the dishware to the floor. Pen in hand, he skid across the linoleum, crouching next to them, uncapping it--

He hesitated.

Diego ripped it from his hands and jammed it into Five's thigh, injecting the medication.

Nothing happened. 

Five slumped back against him. His fight drained.

Diego cursed, because he prided himself in remembered everything. Every little thing from their childhood, even the things he wished he could forget. But he never wanted to forget, because they were useful, because he needed them, because he knew every location of every EpiPen so that he could save his scrawny-ass brother for _once_ in their lives.

But the one thing he _could_ forget was that medication eventually expired…

His gut twisted. Diego felt panic building in his stomach, cold and hot and burning, leaving him shaky and breathless.

Seven months past the expiration date was one thing, but  _ seventeen years _ was entirely different. How could he be _that_ stupid?

Five made a noise. He went still in Diego's lap. His eyes rolled back into his head.

Diego's mind shut down, flashing into hyperdrive. Where was another Pen? He couldn't remember. Did they have one? Would it even work? What should he do? What  _ could  _ he do? He couldn't think. Not over Five's guttural wheezes, not over Klaus' blubbering of apologies and concerns and, "oh God this is all my fault oh my god oh my god".

Then, he remembered.

He _remembered_ and, pride be damned, he reeled back and cried out,  _ "Mom! _ "

Klaus jolted. Five didn't stir. 

Diego screamed, " _ Mom _ , Five's having a reaction! _Mom--_ _! _ "

Silence smothered the kitchen.

A second later, Grace swooped into the room from seemingly nowhere, stopping and dropping at their side. Her face was impassive, completely expressionless as she uncapped another EpiPen and slammed it into Five's thigh.

Diego stilled.

Klaus' sobbing stopped.

The two of them held their breaths.

Five shuddered against Diego, drawing in a guttural breath. His head lolled on Diego's shoulder, leaning into him, his forehead at the crook of Diego's neck. Instantly, the color began to return to him, the oxygen deprivation loosening its hold on him.

Without further preamble, Grace slotted her hands under Five's knees and shoulders and pulled him up into a smooth carry, unperturbed by the added weight. Diego caught himself in a whine, snapping his mouth shut before any more of it could come out. He felt cold, devoid of Five's feverish body, and as he carefully wrapped his arms around himself, he could feel his heart hammering under his ribs, on his tongue, unable to slow even as he took a deep breath and willed himself to stay calm.

Grace and Five drifted out of the kitchen, the click of her heels echoing in the quiet.

Within a few seconds, he and Klaus were alone sprawled on the floor, left to gather themselves up.

A cry ripped up Klaus' throat. He clapped a hand over his mouth. His eyes were wild, unfocused as he stared at the cookie Five had dropped mere inches away from them.

Diego picked it up off the ground.

Klaus recoiled. "I'm so sorry." His voice was partially muffled by his hand. "I'm so,  _ so _ sorry. I completely forgot. I just--"

"Stop." Diego held up his hand. He tossed the cookie up onto the table. "What was it? Almond flour? Cashew butter?"

"Almond milk…" Klaus mumbled.

"Okay, okay." Slowly, Diego rose to his feet. He used the back of a chair to hold up his trembling legs. Klaus stayed sprawled on his ass, looking as if he were going to puke. His tears smeared his eyeliner. " _ Hey _ ." Diego called down to him.

Klaus whipped around. He blinked up at Diego.

"Come on. We've got to scrub the kitchen, toss the milk." Diego flashed him a quick smile. "Eat all the cookies, too."

A watery laugh left Klaus sobbing harder. "Oh my  _ God, _ I don't want to even  _ look _ at them."

Diego held out his hand. Klaus took it.

On their feet, they glanced around the room in relative silence. Their eyes landed on the cookie platter. Diego hummed in disappointment. "Man, they were so fucking good, too."

"Please...just don't." Klaus wobbled away, yanking open the fridge and chucking the almond milk into the trash can.

When Klaus was watching, Diego reached over and grabbed a few cookies. He shoved them into his pocket despite his brother's look of horror. "Is this insensitive, you think?" Diego asked.

Klaus' mouth hung open. "I-I  _ feel _ like it is."

"Think Five will mind?" Diego forced himself to grab another. "They were just too good, man."

"He _will_ mind if you touch him after eating one." Klaus offered weakly. But he looked better, took a deeper breath.

They scrubbed the kitchen from top to bottom, even after Grace returned, assuring them Five was fine and that she would take care of everything. They worked with her, cleansing the entire room of the thing that had nearly killed their brother, just to be safe. And, once they were finished, Diego took himself and his four stashed-away cookies, and tossed those into the trash, too, making sure to diligently wash his hands afterwards. Truthfully, he doubted he would be able to stomach another sweet treat anytime soon. That had been too close a call, but he didn't want Klaus to feel bad, didn't want to fuck up his sobriety cookie experience any further.

As he went back downstairs, he found Klaus huddled at Five's bedside with a blanket draped over his shoulders and Five's tiny hand in his. Diego took a spot opposite of him. He leaned back and closed his eyes, letting Five's steady breaths finally calm his racing pulse.

**Author's Note:**

> I have never not once had an allergic reaction in my life. Nor do I know what it looks like, really. So this was a hard guess and a few Google escapades in the tender hours of the eve. Apologies if I'm just flat out fucking _wrong_ LMAO.
> 
> Never have I written the word, "cookie" so many times. I'm...I'm not living for it, not gonna lie. I kinda hate it.
> 
> Anyways! Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! All mistakes belong to not me, but rather, the being that inhabits my body between 2 and 5AM when I'm not quite a human, not quite a monster, but something wriggly in-between. 
> 
> Check out the [Tumblr](https://itty-bitty-rampaging-committee.tumblr.com/), itty-bitty-rampaging-committee, should you want to. I've got a few cute posts here and there asksksks. I'm putting my name there because I've had _many a person_ come to me saying, "OH MY GOD THAT'S YOU???" and so. There. Now everyone who clicks on this fic officially knows it's me.


End file.
